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A New Beginning
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The morning sun climbed slowly over Nexon's grand skyline, painting the spires of the capital in hues of gold and pale amber. As the light stretched, it touched the edge of a steep hill where Ciren Shion stood, cloaked in a navy-blue academy robe that hung slightly too long for his thin frame.
This was it.
Below him, the gates of Nexon Mage Academy opened like the maw of destiny. Towering columns etched with runes pulsed faintly, casting magical reflections on the white marble courtyard. Students from all walks of life gathered—each wearing their family's crest, each buzzing with nervous pride.
Ciren wore no crest. His chest bore only a simple silver pin, shaped like a flame within a circle—the mark of a commoner. Or worse, to some.
He adjusted the strap of his satchel and took a deep breath.
"I'm ready," he whispered.
Beside him, Kai Zephion stood tall in his ceremonial battle cloak, arms folded, the winds dancing in his black hair. His expression was proud, but unreadable.
"Remember, Ciren. This place is not just about spells and status," Kai said calmly. "It's about proving you deserve your place. and yeah one more thing , No power comes from panic. Control comes from clarity"
Ciren nodded. "I'll make you proud."
Kai ruffled the boy's hair, a rare soft gesture from a man so stoic.
"Sure. You will"
From his robes, Kai pulled out a leather-wrapped object. He slowly unrolled it to reveal a short blade—elegant and curved, the hilt etched with silver markings like wind and flame.
"This was your father's," he said. "He never used it much. But he always kept it close. it reminded him who he was."
Ciren reached out carefully, as if touching memory itself.
"What was he like?" he whispered.
"A firestorm," Kai said with a far-off smile. "But a kind one. Like you."
Ciren held the blade to his chest, nodded, and stepped forward.
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The Academy of Nexon
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The Academy was a world within a world.
As Ciren walked through its marble halls, passing training grounds suspended mid-air and lecture rooms crafted within floating spheres of crystal, he could feel the weight of tradition pressing down on him.
Nexon's magic was rooted in precision and discipline—lightning-fast incantations, glyph-based channeling, and mental dueling. Every lesson carried the echo of generations. Statues of old archmages lined the hallways like stone sentinels, their eyes hollow, watching.
Every student around him bore their family sigils with pride. Sons of generals. Daughters of enchanters. Ciren could hear the whispers.
"That's the cursed one."
"The Shion boy."
"I heard he's the reason his brother vanished."
It wasn't new, but it still bit deep. He gripped the strap of his satchel tighter, pretending not to hear. He focused on the beauty of the stained-glass skylights, each depicting the Five Nations: Viscus, Corteon, Seior, Levion… and Nexon.
He paused before the Nexon window—a spiraling bolt of lightning striking through the sky, surrounded by a magic circle.
This was his nation. This was his future.
Even if it hated him.
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The Great War
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The first lecture ended early, and the students were herded into the Grand Archive—an open arena-library lined with cascading spellbooks and floating memory crystals. A presentation was being held—an educational reenactment of history.
The room dimmed.
Ciren sat still as a crystal sphere projected ancient images into the air—images of flame, war, and screaming skies.
"This," spoke the Valtus Emeren Headmaster, his voice echoing, "is the Great War of Eridor."
The vision showed a sky ripped apart by shadow. A dark fortress rising. The Demon King, Darcon, descending with his Abyssal Legion. Entire cities fell. One by one, the nations were crushed. Nexon's lightning towers shattered. Seior's frost-walls melted. Corteon's armored titans burned.
Then came a light—five, to be precise.
"It was only through the union of five DoRs—artifacts beyond mortal comprehension—that Eridor was saved," the Headmaster Valtus Emeren said.
The images burned brighter now—heroes standing atop shattered mountains. Two of them—Zex and Marie Shion—stood against Darcon in a final, impossible battle.
They sealed the Demon King in the Hollow Realm.
The room grew cold.
Ciren's eyes widened. His parents.
They stood in glory, but the image was fleeting. The final moment showed them vanishing in a flash of light, their life force consumed to power the sealing.
Then… the vision of a boy. Eren Shion. Alone. Screaming.
And gone.
The light faded. The archive returned to silence.
But inside Ciren's chest, a storm raged.
He didn't cry. Not here.
But his hands clenched in silene.
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The Marik Thorne
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Later that afternoon, during combat orientation in the South Courtyard, Ciren found himself unexpectedly called forward.
Opposite him stood Marik Thorne, a student robed in Nexon's elite fire division garb. His family crest shone brightly—three flaming swords crossing over an arcane ring.
"Let's give the Academy a show," Marik said. "You and me. Right here. Right now."
Ciren paused. "What? I didn't ask for—"
"But I did, Little Shion boy," Marik interrupted coldly. "You want to stand among us? Prove you're not just some sympathy case."
The instructors did nothing. Dueling was part of Nexon's culture—an unspoken rite for newcomers.
Ciren hesitated. He had no chants memorized. No formal battle glyphs. His magic was… weak.
But he had his blade.
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The Unwanted Duel
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As the duel began, Marik launched a whip of fire—elegant, controlled, lethal. Ciren dodged by instinct, rolling, letting the edge singe his cloak. More attacks followed, beautiful arcs of heat that left the stone cracked.
He was outmatched.
But he was still standing.
He breathed. Listened.
Kai's voice rang in his mind:
"No power comes from panic. Control comes from clarity."
Ciren blocked the next arc with his blade, deflecting just enough to step in. A fluid, practiced movement. A true Nexian technique. One Kai had drilled into him.
By the end, Ciren hadn't landed a blow—but he hadn't gone down either.
He hadn't lost.
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CONNECTIONS
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The courtyard was silent.
Ciren's blade trembled slightly in his grip, but his legs held strong. Marik stepped back, his flames flickering out. He didn't speak—just turned and walked off, wounded in pride.
No cheers followed. Just hushed awe.
Then came the sound that broke the quiet.
"That's my boy!!" Rex's voice cut through, filled with joy. Stocky and full of energy, Rex Cunisen looked like he was always on the verge of starting a fight—or a food fight.(Friend)
Emi raced forward. "You were amazing!"
Emi Siren. Smart, fast, and possibly part lightning bolt.(Friend)
Sam Luthorious crossed his arms, lips twitching upward.
quiet, eyes half-lidded like he was already bored of life at twelve.(Friend)
Reo gave him a single nod of respect. "Not bad..Not bad." Reo Zakarta tall and composed, robes perfectly pressed, his silver glasses glinting.(Friend)
Ciren was stunned. Not by pain, but by something else.
Belonging?
He looked down at his blade—not glowing, not enchanted. But it had served him. He'd served himself.
For the first time… maybe that was enough.
Across from him, Marik Thorne slowly straightened. A soft breath left his lips. His flame had dimmed, his stance relaxed. He hadn't been defeated—but something had shifted in his gaze.
And for a split second, so brief it could've been imagined, the corner of Marik's lip curved. Just slightly.
A ghost of a smile.
Not mockery. Not malice.
Testing.
He stepped forward, casually brushing the soot from his cloak.
"Tch… I'll let you off this time," he muttered, voice low but clear. "And by the way... I'm going easy on you."
He leaned slightly closer, his eyes narrowing just a touch.
"It's not over, Little Shion."
Then, without another word, he turned and walked off—shoulders straight, hands in his pockets, as if none of it had mattered. No gloating. No cheer. Not even frustration.
Just silence
As he vanished into the arc of the academy's shadow, the instructor Mrs. Carnabel clapped his hands loudly, shattering the tension like glass.
"Enough. Back to formation. No need to applaud—we don't reward basic survival."
A groan rippled through the students as the spell was broken. Some glanced at Ciren. Others ignored him entirely. No one clapped.
Except one or two.
And only then did Ciren exhale.
Shadows and Silence
That night, as lanterns floated high over Nexon's crystalline skyline, Ciren sat alone on a small balcony ledge, legs hanging over the stone rail.
He could still hear the murmurs of students inside. Whispers, jokes, arguments. But none of it mattered right now.
He unsheathed his blade and held it beneath the moonlight.
No magic answered.
Just steel and memory.
"One day," he murmured, "I'll make them stop whispering. I'll make them listen."
In the stillness, he thought of his parents. His brother. Kai's tired eyes. His friends' cheers.
Extras -About
HEADMASTER OF NEXON ACADEMY.
Name: Valtus Emeren
Title: Archmagister of Nexon Mage Academy
A renowned rune scholar and former high-mage of Nexon's Lightning Corps, Headmaster Valtus Emeren is respected for his strict discipline, deep magical wisdom, and unwavering dedication to preserving Nexon's traditions. He speaks rarely—but when he does, the Academy listens.
CHARACTERS INTRODUCED
Marik Throne (Nexon's elite fire division garb and from one of most respected and powerful nobel family)
Reo Zakarta(From an Small clan Zakarta)
Emi Siren (Daughter of a wealthy merchant)
Rex Cunisen(Commoner)
Sam Luthorious (From a well known nobel family)
Mrs. Carnabel (Instructor at Nexon Academy)
TO BE CONTINUED...